


You’re Borrowed Time Ran Out

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abandonment, Character Death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, Hurt No Comfort, Loneliness, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, No Beta, Sad Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, and talk to someone if you need to, please be safe out there, this is just a vent, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:41:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29074263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: This is about an extremely serious issue, and is just a vent for me. If you are having any of these same thoughts please, please talk to someone. I know I can't talk too much because I am writing out my feeling and posting it to a fanfiction site, but get help. Please.Names are changed to flowers because I like flowers.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2
Collections: Anonymous





	You’re Borrowed Time Ran Out

The last meal he ate was unremarkable. Mostly because, like most things in his life, he was not completely sure on what he did and did not like. A lifetime of being compliant to those around him would do that to a person, after all. There was only one person who would force him to think about what he liked and they….well, let’s just say that the two of them were on a break.

A best friend break.

He would like to think that the breakup had not been rough. He would like to push those emotions down, so far down until he could not even register that they were there. He would like to think that it did not bother him.

But there was not a lot of time left in his story. And he could spend the last few hours being honest with himself, couldn’t he?

Truth was, it had hurt. It still hurt. He did not admit it because he did not want to hurt his best friend. His Sunflower. Because he felt so alone again. So very alone.

He idolized relationships. Waiting for the perfect one. Waiting for the one that would love him completely and without conditions, experiencing the one and only thing that he actually wanted in his life. To have someone look at him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered. To be able to turn to someone when he was having a rough day and not just be stuck in an endless cycle of distractions with the voices that he made in his head. To snuggle up to someone, and have them press soft kisses into his head, and hold him. Just fucking hold him, and let the rest of the world melt away. To accept him for the mess that he knew he was, and be ok with that.

He wanted that person to be Sunflower. And, as much as they said that they did care about him, having a breakdown, and then immediately getting told that they could not have friends at the moment felt a little bit like abandonment.

He did not do well with abandonment.

So, here he sat. Alone. In the cafeteria of his college. Might as well spend his last few moments with people right? It’s not like it mattered a lot anymore. 

He did not remember what he ate. Probably something with rice. Treating himself to soda and a sweet brownie. The ones that had M&M on them. He liked the texture that they gave.

The walk back was quiet. Even, for once the intrusive thoughts were silent. Not pulling up sexual pictures of the people he cared about and forcing them on him. Or coming up with reasons why everyone hated him. It was funny, how these things had been so normal to him throughout his life. And he had never been able to tell anyone. Oh well.

One thing he did know. He did not want to die in his room. He wanted to be up someplace high. Someplace where he could see the night sky, in all of its brilliance. A place where he could feel free.

The man knew that he was too much of a coward to jump. And there were too many things that might keep him alive. No, if he was going to do this, he was going to make sure to finish the job.

So he packed his backpack for the last time. Phone, water bottle, knife, and a bottle of pills he had gotten from the supermarket. Money did not mean a lot to him anymore, so it did not matter what he spent his money on.

He debated on bringing his journal. Putting in a final statement before the end. But it did not seem worth it. He barely had the energy to do this, and he would just be writing for the people he left behind at that point. And he did not really want to do that.

His roommate was not home. The norm for them. Jayce was probably out with friends. Having a good time. Being social. Gross really.

He laughed at his own joke. The last bit of batter getting used up before his story really came to an end.

He had texted the man, letting him know that he would not be coming back to the dorms that night. That way, he would not freak him out too much. He wanted his body to be undisturbed for at least the night. To spend as much time facing the sky as possible.

A part of him felt guilty for leaving Jayce.

A bigger part of him was too tired to keep going.

The man knew that. He had been living on borrowed time for almost a year now, it was bound to run out sometime. And he was ok with that. A part of him was excited. To finally be free.

It was a calm walk to the parking garage. Late at night, to make sure that he did not get caught before he could finish the job. The climb was silent, footsteps echoing off the tight walls of the room.

He climbed up to the highest part of the garage, a little roof where he had tried to make his second attempt on his life.

He had never liked to call it an “attempt of suicide.” More of a “attempt of an attempt of suicide.” Much like his first attempt of an attempt, he had not gotten far enough to even try. Something stopped him. He was not tired enough. Part of him held onto hope that things would get better. That he could find someone to care about him, and love him, and take him into their arms, and he would finally, fucking finally, be safe.

But he was too tired to hope. He was too tired to do a lot of things. Too tired to write. Too tired to hold up the promises that he had made. Too tired to tell himself lies.

A part of him felt guilty for leaving the stories unfinished. The thoughts told him that it did not matter, no one would have read them, dead or alive.

That brought him to the very top. Leaning against the side of the small concrete wall that surrounded the tallest part. Looking up at the beautiful sky above.

God it really was amazing. A few clouds drifted above, not too many to cover the stars but enough to make it a perfect sky. A crescent moon shone down on him, as he started to unpack his backpack.

A part of him wanted to text Sunflower. One last time. It did not seem very romantic that the last text he sent to the person he loved oh so much was “:)”. And yet he did not want to bother them. And the night sky would not look as beautiful in a picture as it did in real life.

He wished he could have shared the sky with them.

The pill bottle opened. The water bottle as well. A pause.

Before he started to pop them in his mouth, swallowing down water as fast as he could before he changed his mind. This had been a long time coming, and it was time to end it. It was time to be fucking done.

The bottle was empty, both of them that he had bought, to make sure he did the job right. Laying with his arms limp on his lap, his favorite leather jacket, with the hoodie that Sunflower had given him under that.

He loved that hoodie. It was only fitting that it saw him to the very end.

He got tired. Eyes getting heavy and body feeling dragged down. Just like his sprite felt, at all hours of the waking day for weeks. It felt nice for his body to feel the same way as his brain felt, the two finally clicking together, even if it was a little too late.

He did not want to spend his last few minutes in silence, so he had compiled all of his favorite albums into one playlist, letting the music speak to his soul of the last time. There had always been a very strong connection that he felt to music. It was one of the few things that he was going to miss about this world. But not enough to keep living in it.

As the drugs started to shut down his system, his mind drifted to those letters he thought about writing to every person in his life. He had been flirting with the idea of dying for a lot longer time that he was comfortable with saying.

The letters were supposed to be his final goodbye. To every person in his life. Written with them in mind to give them a final farewell. And to torture the ones who he believed deserved it.

But sitting here, on top of the cold roof, under the most beautiful sky, with “Downhill” playing in his ears, it did not matter.

For once, this was not something that he did for other people. This was something that he was doing because he wanted to. For himself. He was done with his world. Exhausted and tired from continues tries to keep going. And for what? People that he was not sure if they cared about him?

His mind helpfully blocked out Dahlia, Violet, Aster and Lily in his final justification that no one would miss him. It was a lot harder to find a reason why they would hate him when he had such trust in them. So instead of tainting their names, he just let the good memories of times to be reliving run in his dying mind.

But his mind was already dead wasn't it? His body was just catching up now.

And as the drugs lulled him into an everlasting sleep, one that he was more than enough tired for, he thought of Sunflower. His Sunflower. He had wanted to take them into his arms one time, just once before dying. The need to be wanted by them, the need to always be perfect around them so they did not leave had always been too great to actually ask though. It was a shame, but oh well, such is life.

And the embrace of death took him. Holding him tight like he had wanted to be held so many times before. Dying with him were ideas and memories that he had painfully lived alone. Forever lost on the world.

But it’s not like the world needed another sob story. He was just a guy. And he was so tired.

Lady Death took the tired, broken boy into her arms, kissing the top of his head, while muttering apologies that he had never gotten. One’s that, deep down, he knew he deserved. That this world would have not been so cruel to him. That he could have been given a better hand, a better chance at living.

But she understood. She was the only one that did. Taking his burden off his shoulders as she held him Sometimes the pain of living outweighed the pain of dying.

He had never found his name. An identity crisis never solved. He had gone by Foxgloves to the people at college, and close friends, always telling them that it was just a filler name until he found his real one. Tulip to his unsupportive family. The ones who claimed to love him, and yet left him all alone. Demanding things from him when he had already given is life to them. Demanding things that they had no right to.

And so the nameless boy died. A tragedy as he was put in the most beautiful night sky.

***

Foxgloves’ body was not found until later the next day. A combination of Jayce thinking it was weird that he had not seen his very introverted roommate all day, and someone actually looking up. 

**Author's Note:**

> Get help for yourself if you related to this in anyway that you can. I am making attempts to get the help that I need, but circumstances are hard. Live.


End file.
